Yellow
by Alysskea
Summary: Blaine has been forced out of his old school and now proudly wears a Dalton uniform. Things are going well for him, but a certain boy whom he meets on the stairs might change that. Note: This story will get progressively darker as it goes on.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: This story is loosely based on the Coldplay song 'Yellow'. It's not a favourite of mine, but for some reason I related it to Blaine very quickly (you might figure out why). This is really just creative outlet, there's a Blaine inside my head and he told me to write it *shrug*. **

**Chapter 1**

Blaine was used to peace and quiet. His house in Columbus had been like a giant maze, and with only him and his sisters floating around in it most of the time, there was no need to talk to anyone for days. Especially if you locked yourself away like Blaine did. He had been given his own room at Dalton in which the only company he had was the small yellow bird that flew in circles round his cage. He didn't really mind having Pavarotti around; it was like having an automatic friend. Pavarotti always liked him so long as Blaine kept feeding him and didn't play his music too loud. A soft, melancholy piano melody was playing at the moment, and Pavarotti seemed to be enjoying it because he had stopped his circling for a minute and cocked his head to the side to listen carefully. Blaine looked out the window and craned his neck to look at the stars, which were oddly visible for the time of year. They comforted him, the stars, because every time he looked they were still there. They were like a distant reality that couldn't be touched by the horrors of what was going on down where he was. Blaine didn't need a heaven, but he'd like to live among the stars one day.

He examined himself in the full length mirror as he undressed, peeling off his clothes slowly. His body was covered in bruises. There was a particularly large one on his side where he'd been thrown into that wall, and another one on his arm where they'd punched him with hard fists. He knew he had some down his back, too, but he couldn't see those. His legs were covered in marks from steel-capped shoes and his jaw still ached, bringing back memories he never wanted to revisit, but couldn't help remembering every time he felt the ache. But the bruises were yellow now. That meant they were fading. If the bruises were yellow, then his memories could turn yellow too. Yellow and dusty and ancient. He could tuck them away somewhere safe like an old letter and never have to look at them again.

Dalton was going better than Blaine had expected but he awoke the next morning feeling dazed. He still had such trouble sleeping, the nightmares wouldn't go away. He took all kinds of herbal concoctions to try and tame them, but it was far easier for them to tame him than the other way round. That was one of the things Blaine hated about himself. He stood up reluctantly and saw Pavarotti collide with the bars of his golden cage and fall to the bottom with a squeak looking disgruntled. Blaine smiled at him sleepily and put his finger through the bars for the bird to nip on contentedly.

Blaine had been blessed with a singing voice; it was a simple as that. No one had ever trained, or even encouraged him, to sing. It was just a second nature to him. He remembered learning how to sing before he learned how to talk. No one had given a damn about this at his old school, of course, but now he was at Dalton he was able to show it off and be fully appreciated. The Warblers were another godsend, they meant he actually had people to talk to in the cafeteria. He was able to stop people in the hallways and say hi, he was able to have people that could loosely be described as friends. This had never ever happened before.

He'd been walking to one of their impromptu performances when it had happened, actually. The boy who had once been different and strange was dressed in a uniform. He was confident, smiling and just like everybody else. He relished that, adored it. He didn't need anything to change; he was fine just as he was. So he was walking down the spiral stairs with a distant smile on his face, buried deep in thoughts of song lyrics and subtle dance routines.

But then an angel interrupted him, and he looked up at it with widened eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

******Note: This is really short- I know. The chapters will get progressively longer as the plot continues, I promise. This is just a little bit of a kickstart.**

They locked eyes for what felt like forever before Blaine managed to take in the boy who stood on the second stair, towering above him like some sort of idyllic carving or a painting hanging in a gallery. While he certainly looked dashing, the snobbery which Blaine had acquired at his new school told him that the boy looked scruffy, as well as tremendously out of place. Blaine straightened his posture, adjusted his satchel and put on his best smile; this was how he was supposed to present himself. He directed him to the senior commons and remembered informing him that the Warblers were like rock stars, because that was what he truly believed. Blaine didn't have to try to smile when he sang; it was the only time that it came naturally. He attempted to catch the eyes of the boy from staircase at the beginning of the song, and felt a pang of guilt and embarrassment when the last note rang out and he realised that he hadn't broken the eye contact the entire time. He scalded himself, pinching his thigh sharply and made a mental note to pull himself the _fuck_ together.

Blaine knew that Staircase Boy wasn't really new, he himself had been the new kid a few weeks ago, and it wasn't like that. Blaine will never be able to tell you what it was that made him do it. There was something in the boy that he could feel radiating from him. It made Blaine feel connected to him somehow, like they were singing a harmony to the same song. Although he prayed that he was wrong, Blaine sensed that maybe that black hole in the bottom of his stomach had something to do with it. He didn't like the idea that a boy like this could be hurt in the same way he had been, but there was something sullen about the his face and a lost look in his eyes that Blaine was sure he'd seen before, framed by a mirror.

Blaine's heart broke when Kurt cried. Disgustingly poetic, he knew, but it was true. He'd felt it shatter in his chest. A part of him wanted to pinch himself again for caring this much about a boy he'd just met, but the rest just felt a compulsive need to protect. He listened closely to the story, even though it was unnecessary (he knew what was going on just from the look in Kurt's eyes), and before he knew it, he was trying to give advice. He wanted just to tell him to never leave, but that wasn't possible and even the dazed and confused Blaine knew that. Kurt would never ever find out that Blaine had cried himself to sleep that night. He was reliving memories that he had planned to store away. Pavarotti was malting his feathers, and sat in the corner of his cage almost completely still. The warbler barely touched his food, and his chirping sounded slightly choked.


	3. Chapter 3

** Note: It won't have escaped your notice that I suffer from a horrific case of verbal diarrhoea. Please don't kill me! Also, thanks for all the feedback on previous chapters! It's greatly appreciated.**

Blaine cursed, letting out a string of words he thought maybe might make him feel better. He grabbed a tissue off the bedside and wrapped it around his bleeding fingers carefully, watching the white turn to red. He moved the tissue away and looked in disgust at his hand. His fingers, which had been callused since he began with guitar, were now yellowing at the edges and cuts were starting to form on them. But he had to get this right. Blaine closed his eyes and felt the throb in his finger before exhaling and carrying on.

The days he spent with the boy from the staircase (his name was Kurt) were, well, Blaine wasn't sure quite how to define it. All he knew was that he felt happy. But it was the kind of free happiness that he hadn't felt since he was a child. The kind that he'd felt when he ran through the rain in his yellow gumboots and felt it falling on his face like a gift from the stars. Kurt was younger than Blaine by a few months, but Blaine had been hiding in his bedroom most of his life and so he felt that the other boy was wiser than he was. Most of the time they spoke about things that were gloriously irrelevant, but whenever Kurt spoke about himself Blaine always remembered to listen extra carefully. He wanted to make a map in his mind. Kurt was energetic and confident and beautiful and he made Blaine feel like a dork. He would stumble on his words and say the wrong thing and sometimes his sentences just came out in the wrong order. But he didn't have to curse at himself in his head or ram his fist into his thigh or pinch himself like he normally did when he said the wrong thing because Kurt would laugh it off. He would just laugh and the smile and look at Blaine with his starlit eyes and Blaine would just crawl inside them instead. He felt safe from everyone there, including himself.

When Kurt had told him about moving schools, Blaine had never been so angry with himself. He was so fucking happy about it. He danced around his room and he sang and he smiled. Kurt was leaving everything he knew, being forced out of familiarity by hate and fear and violence and Blaine was thrilled about it. Blaine thought about the blade he kept in his glasses case, but whisked the image away from himself. This wasn't about him, this was about Kurt. And Blaine was going to work on himself, make himself better. Blaine was going to become completely perfect and then he could have this boy for his own. Pavarotti flew around his cage frantically and sang at Blaine with an expectant look on his face. Blaine was going to write a song and the song was going  
to be perfect. 

It seemed almost natural that the two of them would become friends once Kurt arrived at Dalton, although some people found it strange considering Blaine hadn't become proper friends with anyone else before. His classmates at Dalton had the utmost respect for him (the Warblers were sure to win now), no one could really figure him out. Wes and David felt sorry for him, the people at their old school hadn't been too happy about their relationship either. Blaine was the only person they'd told about that, actually, there was something about him that made them feel safe and want to open up. They knew he wouldn't pass it on. So Blaine generally just tagged along with them, but he couldn't really talk to them the same way he could talk to Kurt and they didn't make him feel the same way. When Blaine had handed Pavarotti over to the newest Warbler, he felt like he was giving a part of himself away. The scariest thing was that he didn't care. It felt right, actually, like perfect timing. Pavarotti seemed happy enough about it too, flying in excited circles and chirping in a carefree way.

Blaine had used up a whole box of Disney band aids in the week he had been writing the song for Kurt, but he had got it almost down to perfection. Somewhere he had found the courage to go straight up to the boy and talk to him straight out, clutching his guitar in his sore hands.

"I wrote a song for you." He said, like it was no big deal. "It's called Yellow."

Blaine didn't know what he'd expected from this, but what he received had been… a shock. The boy who he'd been obsessing over, dreaming about, fantasising about had just leaned down onto him like it was the easiest thing in the world and kissed him. Blaine could feel himself being fixed as the younger boy wound his curls around his fingers and ran his tongue over Blaine's lower lip. It was impossible to say anything afterwards, he felt as if he had lost all powers of speech, but he was smiling. Kurt smiled too and held his hand gently. He stroked the cuts on Blaine's hand slowly and carefully and looked him in the eyes with a knowing look. Blaine wondered if he could have been any less subtle, but he giggled and rolled his eyes at himself- a decent step up from punishment. Pavarotti flapped his wings and chirped contentedly before closing his eyes and curling up in the middle of the cage and drifting to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Blaine felt kind of guilty about his behaviour following that day, whatever day of the week it was, when he had sung the song which seemed to have changed everything. The two boys had become far more comfortable around each other since that day and Blaine felt a kind of bond between them which he prayed every night he had not made up in his head. But Kurt was childish and naive in comparison and he was still in the first stages of dealing with what had happened to him at his old school. When Blaine held him too tight he would wince, his bruises weren't all yellow yet. Some of them were staying blue as if they were trying to match his uniform. Blue was the opposite to yellow, Blaine knew; sometimes it took time for things to fade and hiding them didn't always help. Blaine was a patient person, but sometimes he felt like drunken teenager in the sense that, since he met Kurt, he had been constantly craving physical interaction.

At exactly 1:25am, after the last room checks, Blaine would sneak out of his room and sneak down the chilly hallway to where Kurt was sleeping. Then he would creep into bed with him and cuddle up to him and he would just feel warm all the way through. Suddenly the world (and his school) didn't seem so big anymore and everything was just easy enough to handle. They never talked about it properly, but they had become used to waking up next to each other and Blaine's roommate didn't want to know, so he didn't ask. They would just get up when the alarm went off and sort of nod at each other and then Blaine would go and get changed back in his room feeling more inclined to face the day than he had been before they met. This became a routine over the next few weeks, and Blaine started to feel like he would go crazy without it. That scared him to death.

Maybe it had been the fact that he wasn't used to affection like this, or maybe he was just stupid, but watching Kurt sleep like that with his mouth open and his breathing slow and for once looking peaceful and not worrying about anything, well, it just drove Blaine insane. And maybe there was that one time when things got a little further than he wanted. Blaine tried to a gentleman, he tried to be chivalrous. Hell, he just tried to be perfect all the damn time, but Blaine had reached what many would call breaking point. He didn't know anyone could have so many conflicting emotions at once. For some reason, Blaine chose to act on it in a way that he was sure most would deem completely unhealthy and inappropriate.

He reached over to Kurt, who was only half asleep, and ran his hands through his silky hair. Kurt looked him straight in the eye sleepily and Blaine's breath caught in his throat. He inhaled slowly and leant in to kiss him. Kissing Kurt had become Blaine's favourite addiction, he tasted like warm milk and toothpaste and… comfort. So you see, usually this was enough to calm him down and make him feel better but this time he found his fingers wondering involuntarily to feel over the other boy's stomach and before he knew it he was pulling his shirt over his head and kissing him deeper and more intensely than typical social boundaries had allowed. The younger boy responded without saying much, but kissed him back and unbuttoned his shirt and clung to him like he was drowning in something.

Exploring Kurt's body felt a bit like exploring his past. He had a birthmark on his lower left thigh in the shape of a crescent moon and a load of yellow and blue patches up his side from being thrown into lockers. Blaine gulped and panicked slightly when he saw this, but Kurt just looked into his eyes and then pressed his mouth to each of the marks Blaine had down his own body. Blaine was almost surprised when they didn't just disappear; it felt to him like they had. It hadn't felt like he had done anything wrong that night whatsoever. He had never cherished anything in the way that he cherished Kurt. He felt himself trying to ravish everything that Kurt was, like he was trying to drink him in, or maybe just become a permanent attachment to him and never have to leave.

Blaine had awoken the next morning a sticky mess. He was sure he was meant to be feeling gross right now, but he felt pretty much perfect. He could smell Kurt strongly, and could feel the other boy breathing warmly on his shoulder. It was Saturday, thank God, so he lay there for a while stroking Kurt's hair softly and for this first time he had a genuine smile on his face. That had never happened, Blaine was sure of it, at least not since he was very young. But now there was no stopping him, and a smile turned into a grin.

Blaine had never felt so absolute. Finally it felt like whatever he had been missing before had been found and it had healed him from the inside out.

_I finally found you, my missing puzzle piece .I'm complete._


	5. Chapter 5

If Blaine had known a few weeks back that he would have spent hours in his room with a boy he knew both everything and nothing about, he certainly wouldn't have believe them. In fact, he probably would've been angry with them and he would've been upset. And yet here he was. It had only been a few weeks since they had first caught each other's eyes on that staircase, but Blaine felt as though they were practically one person by now. Kurt was the only who knew all this secrets and the other boy had told him a few of his own too. They'd cried together, laughed together, practically spent every single minute of the day together since they had first met but Blaine had still felt like he wanted more. There was a need in him that had been unsatisfied like he was still empty in places. But not anymore, not that morning. That morning the room was warm and the air was thick and salty with a musky smell, just like the kind of dream that you never wanted to wake up from. But he was awake, and everything was still here. How had he possibly gotten this lucky?

Kurt groaned in awakening and instinctively sat up, taking in his surroundings. Blaine caught his face in his hand and brushed a thumb across his cheek.

"Morning," he whispered, not wanting to startle the sleepy boy beside him. Kurt wiped his eyes and lay back down, not replying. Blaine felt awkward and lay back down himself looking across and taking in the beauty that lay before him.

"Blaine…" Kurt sighed. "What…" The boy scrambled to get up, wrapping a dark blue sheet around him, contrasting with his white skin. "I have to go, okay?" And suddenly it was like he was never there. Blaine clung to the pillow that the boy had slept on and let tears fall from his eyes. He took out a blade and drew a clean line down his wrist, watching droplets of blood form. He let out a sigh. He wasn't supposed to do this stuff anymore, but it wasn't as if he didn't deserve it. This was obviously his fault, he must have done something wrong. Maybe just existing was the thing he'd done though, it certainly felt that way. Blaine was too distraught to notice the rattling in Pavarotti's cage.

The two boys didn't talk the whole of the next day, Blaine hadn't seen Kurt anywhere. He knew he was being avoided, and he felt a physical pain because of it. He briefly wondered if it was possible to have a heart attack over something like this because the kind of squeezing in his chest was a pain worse than he'd ever felt before, even with all those years being pushed around. He returned to his room exhausted, even though he had done nothing all day and lay down on the unmade bed which still smelled faintly of the boy he'd spent the night with. His eyes were stinging and his vision was blurred and, after years of being alone, the loneliness suddenly struck Blaine luck a spear in his heart. It was as if everything that had happened in the past had caught up to him and he just couldn't help himself. He cried for what seemed like forever with the covers over his head in the dark. He needed to get this boy back. He'd do anything, whatever it took. There was no way that he could let him go now.

Blaine checked on Pavarotti late that night, and saw that he was walking lop sided, and shivering with his head turned away. His feathers were ruffled and he made a soft cooing sound which sounded too much to Blaine like crying. On lifting the bird gently into his hands, Blaine discovered that he'd broken one of his delicate yellow wings. Blaine wasn't sure what to do, and he couldn't see properly from the tears forming in his eyes. Pavarotti rattled in his cage all night, as if he were trying to fly even with his broken wing. Eventually, as dawn began to show itself through Blaine's window with a ray of yellow sunlight, the rattling stopped and Pavarotti drifted to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

For two weeks after the night they had spent together, the two boys had said not one word to one another. After a while Blaine had given up all attempts to be civilised and had taken to practically following the boy around. He wasn't so much being avoided anymore as ignored. Blaine sat in the background of Kurt's life hoping for some form of recognition. Kurt had made friends since he'd come to Dalton, his easygoing personality and rare singing voice had earned him the kind of respect that Blaine had been striving for since he arrived, but had never quite found. He observed Kurt carefully, decided that if he couldn't touch him them watching him was the next best thing. That way, when he dreamt at night, his dreams would be vivid, and every single detail would be correct. He could conjure faultless images of Kurt in his mind now, down to the last hair and freckle. Other boys had noticed a change in him, of course. He was now quiet, reserved and his eyes were watery with an absent look whenever anyone tried to talk to him. Blaine could feel a kind of mist around him, as if he was slowly slipping away form the real world. It was scary to think of how this had happened to him. When he had first arrived at Dalton it had been with a sense of hope, a sense of pride even and he had had the confidence that it was going to be okay if he tried hard enough to recover from his past. Now he spoke to know one, and couldn't remember any sort of pride or confidence ever having existed in his darkening mind. The thing that scared him most is that he didn't regret it. As long as he could feel something, it was better this way. So he continued to deteriorate, knowing it as wrong but finding no motivation to stop. He began to cut himself again, and he couldn't have told you why. He did it because he felt guilty, because he felt betrayed, because he felt lonely and unworthy and because he felt a relentless regret in the pit of his stomach all the time. It may only make him feel better for a few seconds, but it was the only thing Blaine had. So he went back to where he swore he never would and began to rely on a soft blade for company and his own gasps of pain for his music.

Kurt had not meant to leave it this long without a conversation; he just hadn't yet found any words to say. The fact was that he liked Blaine, maybe even loved him- he wouldn't know. He hadn't had any practice at this, and no one had ever told him it would be this difficult. Blaine had enchanted him since the first time they met and they had cared for each other in a way that Kurt couldn't erase, he knew that well. He hadn't run away because he wanted to, he'd run because he had no other option and because he wanted time to think and time to pull himself together so he could be better for Blaine. He wanted to be the lifeline now, not the burden, because he had always been the burden. He's burdened his dad because he'd never be the son he wished for; he'd burdened his friends by causing all that drama back at McKinley. There was nothing Kurt wanted more than to be the hero for once, but he knew that he wasn't cut out for that, at least not yet. It hurt him to see Blaine scarred the way he was and Kurt wanted it to be him that made those scars disappear. Blaine had shocked him, he had shocked himself, and he was in a panic.

Blaine's room was no longer neat and organised. Kurt took in his schoolbooks strewn all over the floor, his clothes neglected in a pile by the mirror and he noticed a pile of tissues beside Blaine's bed stained brown, but chose to say nothing about it. Blaine did not acknowledge his entrance, and Kurt hadn't expected him to. He just sat with wide eyes and locked at Kurt in a way that made him feel exposed, almost endangered, as if those eyes could swallow him up if they wanted to. He sat beside Blaine, hearing only his own nervous breathing cutting through a thick silence. Kurt found himself speaking at Blaine rather than too him, he knew that the other boy had nothing to say to him. Blaine sat still and listened to everything that Kurt said to him. Listened to how confused he was, how new things felt, how he was scared, worried and… sorry. Before Blaine knew it Kurt had a hand on his shoulder and was shaking him softly. The boys locked eyes for what Blaine approximated was an hour and Kurt thought was around 4 minutes. Blaine tried to touch Kurt's chest with a chaste hand, but was pushed away, rejected. Kurt kept talking, but Blaine heard not a word that he said as the young boy's hand touched his tear stained face and ran a soft finger over his damaged arm and whispered something in his ear. He sat with Blaine until the boy drifted off to sleep for the first time in days. Kurt smiled meekly, picked up a post-it, wrote three words on it and left.


	7. The Ending

**Warning: This chapter contains SUICIDE TRIGGERS. Please stop reading NOW if you are overly sensitive to this.**

Blaine didn't leave his room anymore, he told everyone he was sick and his pale, almost yellow face backed him up. Everyone who saw him could tell he was losing weight, fading away to a gaunt, brittle figure. If he didn't view Kurt with some kind of magical flawlessness surrounding him all the time then he would have to be angry. Blaine was sure that he would be able to escape his past at Dalton, and in doing this he wanted to escape himself- find a new Blaine, be different, better. But then he'd met Kurt, who was so true to who he was and Blaine had discovered that he couldn't just find a new him, he would have to reinvent himself with what he already had, just the way Kurt had done.

And Kurt had made it better, everyone had noticed that. He was happier now, smiling and no longer had the defeated, scared and heartbroken boy Blaine had once known. But it was as if the boys had bonded in a way that meant there was only a certain amount of happiness between them. While Blaine was happy to give Kurt all the support he had, he felt as though it was draining him, like every smile he gave Kurt he took one from himself. But Blaine would much rather see Kurt smile than smile himself, of that he was sure.

Kurt would visit him after classes every day and never commented on Blaine's deteriorating state. He would talk to fill the silence that had grown and flourished in the room and light up the darkness that Blaine seemed to be emitting into it. He would just lie with Blaine and stroke his hair and kiss him. He never mentioned that\Blaine never seemed to eat anymore, or even the fact that his crisp yellow sheets were becoming blood stained- Blaine loved him for that. Blaine would whisper to him at night everything that he was feeling, all the thoughts that he had and stories about his past and feel safe doing it because he had met the one person on Earth that didn't feel the need to judge him.

Blaine was never the dependent type, but within weeks of meeting Kurt, he'd begun to completely rely on him. It wasn't long until Kurt was bringing him food, hushing him and trying to convince him to eat. Kurt would sing him to sleep sometimes, and would draw back the curtains at night so that Blaine could look at the stars. The stars seemed closer now, bigger- or maybe Blaine had just gotten smaller and further away.

Kurt had known, deep, deep in his heart, that Blaine was fading away, but when you love someone the way Kurt loved him you don't even think about losing them. Kurt had developed a routine for himself- he would go to classes during the day and act normally, like he always had and then in the evening he would go back to Blaine and care for him. It was worth it to be close to him, but Blaine was slowly breaking his heart. Kurt would give anything to see another of those smiles he had loved so much, but he was beginning to forget what they looked like. And so he did all he could do.

He knew it wasn't enough.

Kurt wished that he could cry, or scream. But he'd been expecting this. He'd been waiting for it, even.

Blaine looked angelic.

Like royalty.

In a throne of his own velvet blood.

He'd left a note on the same post-it that Kurt had written on.

_Look at the stars._

_Look how they shine for you._

_And all the things you do._

_And they were all yellow._


End file.
